Imparfait
by fnl
Summary: Six standalones investigate how things may have turned out had certain characters made different choices.
1. Kelso: Good Looking People

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Story Notes:** Written for jackiehydelover's fanfiction contest on fanforum. It's very simple: six standalones that investigate how things may have turned out had certain characters made different choices. You'll want to read the note at the beginning of each chapter to see if there's any relevant information about what happened or why something that happened on the show isn't happening. Oh, and often, I'm going without a transcript, so forgive any dialogue mistakes

(To any TS readers … I'm sorry, the next chapter should be out by next weekend.)

**Chapter Notes: **What if Donna hadn't stopped Kelso from jumping out the bathroom window in I'm Free?

**Warnings:** Shouldn't be any.

**Imparfait**  
Chapter 1 – Kelso: Good Looking People

* * *

I always _knew_ sex was controlled by the devil. I mean, look at it. Who else would want me – a smart, _incredibly_ attractive man – to be tied down with a kid. Sure, kids are fun and all, and they have these wicked toys, but I've seen guys walking down the street dragging a kid behind them. Not a pretty sight.

So I bailed. It was the best thing to do. Bad things are _not_ supposed to happen to good looking people. And this time, it wasn't only one good looking person who got screwed over – it was two. Because let's face it, Brooke's hot. And I'm hot. So really, my getting out of the screwed up mess was the best thing for both of us, because it's better that only one person has their life screwed up than two. Besides, I'm pretty sure there's a law against two people as hot and Brooke and I having kids together, seeing as we'd produce such super hot children and all. People's heads would explode just looking at them – they wouldn't be able to handle that much beauty.

I'm not sure where to go. I could go to my house, but Brooke's pretty smart, so I think she'd find me there. I could head over to Forman's, but she's been there too, and I don't want to have to hide in the deep freeze. I don't really want to spend the rest of my day listening to Bob cry, so Donna's place is a no-go. I could go do it with Jackie, but there's a few problems with that. One, I'm pretty sure Hyde would kill me. Two, _that's_ what got me here in the first place, and it's controlled by the devil, so I'm going to have to perform an exercise or something before I do it again. And if I go to Fez's, his weirdo host parents will actually make me exercise the devil, so I've pretty much got nowhere to go.

I start to walk around town, being careful to check around each corner before I actually make it to be sure that Brooke isn't out looking for me. I get a lot of strange looks as I head for the edge of town, tiptoeing my way down the sidewalk and humming the Pink Panther song. What's so wrong with that? Some people.

I've decided to go live in the woods where the bears and I will become one. They will bring me food and I will rule their kingdom. I will name them and they will worship me as we play games in the forest, just like I do with the dogs, except they don't want to listen to me. Donna once told me the word I was looking for to describe the games we play is "froglick" which doesn't make any sense at all. Why would I want to lick a frog?

Besides a few slip ups Donna has had (froglick, I thought she was smarter than that!), usually she's pretty smart. And it definitely helps that she has a great rack, so if I get bored while she's talking (which I usually do), I can just stare at that. But then she gets mad, and stops helping me.

Even though it's worth it sometimes.

I finally reach the edge of town, after playing a short game of rock soccer with Fluffy. You know, Fez once told me that where he comes from, they call soccer football. Isn't that crazy? Football is what the Packers play, because you kick the ball with your foot when you're going for a field goal, _duh_. They call soccer soccer for a reason. I saw some people playing it once, and their socks came up to their knees. Socks, soccer. Foot, football. Seriously, Fez's people are really messed up. I wonder where Fez is from, anyways. Probably some really foreign place like Alabama. It's in South America, you know. I keep telling everyone that I _did_ learn something in school, but they only laugh at me.

You know, that's another reason I'm better off living in the woods, besides keeping my life from being screwed up. Everyone always laughs at me because I'm dumb. They don't understand that what I say really makes the most sense out of anything. Like socks and soccer. And Alabama, South America. _Obviously,_ Alabama is in South America because both Alabama and America start and end with A.

I start to move towards the forest. It's really dark in there, but I was never afraid of the dark. That's _another_ reason why I'm smarter than everyone else. I understood that monsters only had X-ray vision that didn't work in the dark. As I enter the woods, the sun disappears, and I'm left in the dark.

Even from here, I can hear the bears roaring. They're going to be so glad when I come to save their kind that they'll all bow down to me and say, "Thank you, Mister Kelso!" except they'll say it with an accent, because bears aren't from here.

Actually, this isn't as much fun as I thought it would be. It's really noisy in here, and I think I just saw that bush move. In fact, I'm almost positive there's something following me. "Fluffy!" I yell, hoping that maybe he's still around somewhere and will come and save me, but he doesn't. Somewhere, a stick breaks, and I almost run out of the woods screaming. But then I remember that this is the only way to keep my life from turning into a living hell, and I keep walking, still looking for any bears. But as I walk further into the woods, I begin to wonder if a baby would be that bad. I mean, they laugh a lot. And they have really cool toys, and people love them. You know, I bet that if I had a baby, girls would be chasing after me even more because they'd see that I'm responsible, foxy, and they'd love the baby!

Plus, no one would be able to laugh at me anymore for being dumb, since I had a kid and all. I've never seen any of _them_ have a kid. Dummies.

Who am I kidding? I don't want a kid. They just tie you down. The bears are my only option. Suddenly, some strange animal starts talking to me ("whoooo, whoooo"), and I run out of the woods. Maybe the deep freeze wasn't such a bad idea after all.


	2. Eric: Maybe

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Chapter Notes: **What if Eric hadn't bailed on his wedding? (Also: I've NEVER written _anything_ ED, and I'm terribly afraid it's very OOC and all that crap, so just a heads up).

**Warnings:** Shouldn't be any.

**Imparfait**  
Chapter 2 – Eric: Maybe

* * *

"…So I don't look at this as the day I lose a daughter. I look at this as the day I gain a son in law."

My eyes dart quickly to Bob who is drying his own while Donna leaves my side to go comfort him. It feels so strange to be in this room with these people who are only here for me … us. I mean, half of them would be here anyways – Donna, Hyde, Jackie, Kelso, and Fez, and I'm sure Bob would be hanging around somewhere – but right now, they're all here for a purpose.

Because Donna and I are getting married.

Married.

Oh god.

Is it wrong that I feel this sick feeling in my stomach? Like I could puke at any moment? People may say that I'm a squeamish, weak man who can throw up at the drop of a hat, but really, I'm not. It's not my fault my biology teacher told me what was _really_ in fried eggs. Or boiled, scrambled, and baked eggs for that matter. And it's not my fault that I found eating a freaking _chicken_ embryo disgusting.

But something tells me that marrying Donna shouldn't give me the same feeling that the thought of eating a chicken embryo did. I mean, we've been together since forever, and the times we were broken up were some of the worst periods of my life.

So why do I feel so sick? Maybe I should just bail.

As soon as the thought enters my head, I feel even sicker. Even if I'm not ready for this, she is. She's excited about it, and I don't have the heart to take that away from her. But still …

Maybe we are too young. Maybe we will just screw up each other's lives. Well, I'd screw up hers – I don't have much of one to screw up. Maybe this isn't the best way to ensure that we'll be together forever.

But maybe it is. Maybe if we don't seize this opportunity, we'll lose it forever. Maybe if we don't get married now, we'll just break up in a few months or years. Maybe we'll never get this chance again. Besides, it seems like a dumb idea to throw away something that we've spent all this work on. Well, Donna really worked on it. I just went along for the ride, and only because she was making me. Besides, I really don't want to have to go shopping with Jackie again.

Donna finishes talking to Bob and she comes and sits down next to me, patting my leg. She looks happy, genuinely happy, and I can't help but feel terrible for the doubts I was just having.

"Hey," she says, and impulsively stretches up to kiss me on the cheek.

I just smile back.

"You ready for this?" she gestures around to the crowd in Mom's living room, and I half shrug.

"I hope so." I'm disgusted as I glimpse Jackie and Hyde making out in the corner of the room, but I look back at Donna with a reassuring smile. "Are you?"

"Yeah," her tone sounds confident, but I can't help but wonder if it's shadowed with doubt. "I think I am." She smiles at me, gives me a kiss, and gets up off the couch. "I'm gonna go socialise," she says with a grin. "Be good."

I grab her hand as she walks away, and pull her back in for another kiss. I'll probably just sit on the couch all night and get piss drunk.

But something's clouding my thoughts.

* * *

I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as they can go, trying to block out the morning light. I'm getting married today.

Oh god, I'm getting married _today_.

I roll over to check the time and my eyes fall on a worn picture on my nightstand. It's her school picture. I pick it up, grinning at the face smiling back at me.

And then, I think about it. Like, really think about it. I've loved her for as long as I can remember. I wasn't _in_ love with her that whole time, but I've always loved her. I don't remember exactly when it happened, but I know that I want to spend my life with her. And if she's willing to spend her life with me, too, then I don't think I can ask for more.

Because I'll never get anyone better than her.

It's with renewed energy that I get out of bed, eager for the first time in days for this wedding.

I quickly get dressed, and take the stairs two at a time down to breakfast. I enter the kitchen with a grin and a smart mouth comment, but my animated actions are greatly slowed down when I glance at the sober expressions surrounding the breakfast table.

"What?" I freeze in place, only flinching slightly when Jackie comes up to me and jabs me in the chest.

"This is all your fault!" she says, angrily.

I stare at her strangely. I always knew she was weird, but this takes the cake. "Jackie, I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" I mutter a quick sorry when my mother says something about my language.

However, the girl doesn't move away, but instead manages to get herself more in my face. "You," she said with finality. "Just ruined my month."

I keep staring at her, finally breaking the contest to look over her head to Hyde. "Can you dispose of this?" I gesture to her, and he nods but continues to eat his toast, indicating he'll do it when the show's over. I quickly cover her mouth with my hand just as she opens it to start lecturing me. She's so predictable.

"Ah!" She starts licking my hand! The little midget! I yank it away and wipe the slime on her shoulder as she turns around to go spit in the sink. "Jackie germs!" I yell as she insults me in the same manner.

"Now!" looking around the room, I realise that something must be seriously wrong. Mom looks heartbroken, Dad looks angry, and Hyde looks amused.

Well, Mom looking heartbroken is out of place anyways. "What's going on?" I ask, suddenly worrying that something happened. "Donna's dead, isn't she?" I squeak, ignoring the looks my father and best friend give me.

Mom moves from the table to the counter to prepare my breakfast. "Jackie went to wake up Donna this morning, Eric," she says, piling the bacon on. She thinks I need extra fat. "And she wasn't there."

I freeze. She wasn't there? "Did she just …" I trail off. Damn it, I've been ditched!

Is it wrong that I feel relieved?

"Oh honey!" my mother bursts into tears and wraps her arms around me. "I know it's hard, but you'll be fine!"

I awkwardly hug her back, sceptically wondering why I feel like I've just been let off the hook.

Maybe I would've gone through with it. And maybe we would've had the life of our dreams, or maybe I would've just destroyed hers. Maybe we weren't ready. But I do one thing. No matter what happens, now, or in ten years, I'm sure I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

And someday, I'll give her the wedding of her dreams.


	3. Donna: Tiny Soaps

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Chapter Notes: **What if Hyde hadn't pulled the fire alarm in Eric's False Alarm?

**Warnings:** Shouldn't be any.

**Imparfait**  
Chapter 3 – Donna: Tiny Soaps

* * *

"Tiny soaps!" I exclaim excitedly, coming out of the bathroom, my hands filled with the small hotel handouts. Casey gives me an amused grin from where he's sitting on the bed, and I smile right back. I love these things. Tiny shampoos, soaps, liquor, whatever. They're all so cute. "I want to see what else they have in here!"

I hurry back into the spotless bathroom, and close the door behind me. Setting down the soap, I lean on the vanity and press my head against the cool glass of the mirror. _Breathe in, _I instruct myself. I can handle this. It's only Casey Kelso, and I've known him forever. It's only Kelso's brother.

Oh gross. He seems a lot less attractive when I think of him like that.

_Focus Donna,_ I tell myself, pulling back to inspect my reflection. I can't be thinking of Casey in anything less than attractive terms tonight. I take a deep breath and smooth my hair. I can do this. I mean, I like Casey, I really do.

It's just that before I did it with Eric, I made him wait. Not to make him suffer, but to make sure that I was ready to do it. I made sure that I was absolutely in love with him before I even brought it up.

But I don't love Casey. Not yet, anyways. He's hot, and he's got a nice car, but I don't love him. But this isn't the same as it was then. This isn't the first time, and tons of girls have done it when they didn't love the guy. I mean, meaningless sex is part of life.

So why do I feel like such a whore?

But I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. This is ridiculous. I'm allowed to screw anyone I want to, and there's nothing wrong with Casey. But why do I suddenly feel a sense of disloyalty to Eric?

God, what am I thinking? I grit my teeth and stare critically at my reflection. This is my chance to get over him, for good. I pretty much am, and if that's my only reason for doing it with Casey, then screwing him isn't really necessary, but you know, I'll do it just for any stupid brain cells who can't forget about the scrawny neighbour boy.

One more deep breath and I'm reaching for the doorknob. I walk out to find Casey in the same spot as when I had left. "Hey Pinciotti," he says smoothly.

"Hey Casey," I reply, making no move past the bathroom door. "I, uh, found some little shampoos," I offer lamely, immediately smacking myself after the words escape from my mouth.

He doesn't say anything about it; just laughs. God, how does he do that? Completely brush off anything stupid I say and make it look … not so stupid, and almost cool.

"Well I've got some big bottles of liquor," he grins and pulls some wine out of the mini fridge. For some reason, I can't picture him drinking wine (he's always struck me as more of a beer guy), and I tell him so. "Gotta charm the ladies, Pinciotti," he tells me with a wink.

Something tells me that a statement like that should offend me, or at the very least, completely turn me off. But damn, he's a charmer, and I feel myself turning into a giggly schoolgirl.

He grabs some plastic cups bearing the hotel logo, and I smile to myself. I guess even charming the ladies knows its bounds. I sit down next to him on the bed, and he hands me a cup.

"Cheers," I address brightly, and we toast.

For an hour or two, we do nothing but talk and drink. After the wine's gone, he pulls out a case of beer, and we switch over. I wonder briefly if his talking so willingly and for such a long time is just some grand plan to make me feel more comfortable about having sex with him – we all know Casey's not unfamiliar with women and their habits – but I dismiss the idea quickly. Why would he think that talking would make a difference?

Maybe it's a mixture of my self assured thoughts and the liquor, but when he stops mid sentence to lean over and kiss me, I don't protest.

And maybe I begin to kiss him back because I'm not entirely convinced that I'm over Eric, and I want to prove it not only to myself, but him, Casey, and all of our friends.

I suck in a sharp breath when I feel his hands slide under my shirt, surprisingly warm after holding a cold beer. He pushes me down onto the bed, holding himself over me. I slip my hands into his short sleeves and rub his arms, tracing the outline of muscles with my fingers.

He starts sliding my shirt up, breaking the kiss only to get the collar over my head. With one thing out of the way, he tosses it haphazardly to the side, and starts working on the button for my jeans. I raise my hips off the bed as he slides down the zipper, allowing him to pull the denim over my hips. He pulls away from me to completely remove the article, stopping at the foot of the bed to survey me.

"Nice, Pinciotti," he says with an approving nod, a slight smile gracing his face. I blush and shift slightly, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. Desperate for something to do besides watching him smirk at me, I reach around to my back and unhook my bra. He knows what I'm doing, and the smile on his face just grows as I bring my arms back into their original position.

I leave my arms through the straps and the material still covers my breasts, and I can see him waiting for me to take it off, but I make no motion to do so. Within a few seconds, we've returned to our original positions except that now I'm only wearing one item of clothing.

For a few minutes, we just lay there, his mouth nearly glued to mine, hands roaming. But when he reaches for the waistband of my panties, I put a hand on his chest and push him away.

"Hang on," I pant, trying to clear my head.

Why can I only see Eric? Why is he all I can think about? Why, despite everything that's happened, am I totally not ready for this?

"Casey," I whisper, my voice full of regret. He can't detect it though, and moves in to kiss me again. "No," I say firmly. "No. Casey," I repeat, unsure of what I'm trying to say. I roll out of his grasp and grab a pillow from behind us and hold it against my chest, suddenly very aware of my naked state. "Casey, I can't do this. Not now."

He stares at me. "After I rented the room and gave you wine?" he doesn't appear mad, not yet anyways. Probably still hoping to charm his way into my pants.

"Yes," I reply flatly, getting up and putting on my clothes. "I'm really sorry."

I walk to the door, momentarily disappearing from his sight to shove some of the soaps in my pocket. I know that if I walk out now, I'll probably never see him again. Not in this sense, anyways. He won't call me, and I won't expect him to.

"Goodbye," I say softly, opening the door and closing it softly behind me.

Outside, I lean against the hallway wall.

Maybe Casey isn't the man I think he is.

And maybe Eric isn't, either. But as I walk out of the hotel lobby and into the cool air outside, I make myself a promise.

I'll handle whatever life sends at me when it comes. And that's all I can do.


	4. Fez: Good Morning America

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Chapter Notes: **What if Hyde, Kelso, and Eric hadn't found Fez (shown in the flashback for Class Picture).

**Warnings:** Shouldn't be any.

**Imparfait**  
Chapter 4 – Fez: Good Morning America

* * *

"Help Americans!" I call as I hear approaching footsteps. I shift uncomfortably, drumming my fingers on the red ball I'm holding.

As they come closer, I can hear their conversation and I press my ear to the door to listen. Well, as close to the door my ear can get, anyways. "Hey, what's with Donna?" I hear one of them say.

"What? We're just friends!" Another one's protesting. "God, why would you even ask that? I don't even like her! Me and Donna, it's like … it's gross!"

Ha, ha. What a poor sucker, this Donna sounds hot. I shift once more, and decide that my cry for help can wait until the end of this conversation.

"Hey man, I was just asking why she wasn't in class today." The first voice speaks up again, and the Donna lover mumbles something. You think he'd know by now the he shouldn't mumble, and I decide to get their attention and tell him so.

"Help Americans!" I yell again. "Please help me!"

Unfortunately, instead of the reassuring click of a doorknob opening and the creaking sound of the door swinging open, I hear a third moron yell, "Busted!" as the first one laughs and the second one stutters. Damnit, I can hear their footsteps and voices fading.

"Americans!" I give one last, desperate cry. "AMERICANS!"

But there's no reply; no indication that they heard me. With an angry huff, I drop the red ball I'm holding, wishing instantly that I hadn't. As I watch it bounce to the far corner of the closet, I huff in frustration. This isn't quite as comfortable as I thought it would be.

You know, in my country, when people asked if you wanted to "hang out", they usually meant that they wanted to spend time with you. Except that in my country, we never actually said "hang out", we said, "Klopil ide zuk, de humd, de humd, de humd?" which literally translated means, "Would you like to lie on the ground and eat bugs through a straw?"

But even lying on the ground and eating bugs through a straw was better than this. Stupid jocks. They should be impressed I'm even surviving here, never mind talking to people. If they came to my country, the wild packs of boars would kill them in no time flat.

Oh, more people are coming! I strain to hear them as they near the closet door.

"… So then, I told him there was no way in hell I would even consider going out with him! And you know what the bastard did?"

What the bastard did, I never found out. "Hot American girls!" I called weakly because my shirt collar had begun to choke me. Besides, they sounded hot. I could hear them snapping their gum, and everyone knows that girls who snap their gum are the hottest ones. Usually they're blonde with big racks.

"Did you hear something" I hear another one of them say.

"Yes!" I yell again. "Help me hot American girls!"

One snaps her gum. "No, I don't think so," she replied. "It's probably just the mice we stuck in Tim's locker."

They all start to giggle, and I frown slightly. I'm not sure if I want these strange girls rescuing me after all.

As their footsteps fade away, I begin to wonder if I'll ever make friends here in the United States. What if Donna lover's friends had rescued me? Would I have become friends with them? Would I get to meet this Donna? And what if those girls had found me? Would they have laughed at me, or lied on the floor and eaten bugs through a straw with me – figuratively speaking, of course.

Suddenly, I'm feeling very alone and bored. I wish I still had that red ball. I was a stellar football player in my old country. Not that I can play football while I am suspended in mid air, but I could bounce the ball or something.

This closet is very dark, very small, and very quiet I notice all three things at once. No wonder the jocks put me here; they probably left me to die. To be eaten by the packs of wild roaches roaming this damn country. Oh no! That girl said she left mice in Yim's locker! They'll probably tunnel their way through the walls and into here! Oh god, I'm going to die; the mice are going to eat me! Boars are one thing, but mice are another thing completely.

For the third time since I had been hung up, I hear footsteps approaching. "Help," I call, hearing the rustlings of the first stages of mice attacks. "Help me!" I croak again, as I notice the ball in the corner start moving again, all by itself.

No one's talking this time, so I'm assuming that the American is all by himself. Ha. He'll save me and I'll shove them in there to be eaten by the mice. Serves them right, damn mouse loving bastards.

"Help!" I speak desperately, and my breath catches in my throat as I hear the steps come to a halt just outside the door. And suddenly, the doorknob clicks, and the door creeps open, and I sigh in relief. "Thank you," I say kindly to the girl standing in front of me. Wow. She's definitely not a 'him', and she's much too pretty to leave to the mice.

"Who are you?" she asks, surveying me. Really, though, I'm the one who should be surveying her. She's tall and curvy and has bright red hair.

We worshipped redheaded women in my country.

"We worshipped redheaded women in my old country," I inform her as way of introduction. "I am the new foreign exchange student. And you are?"

She looks at me strangely. "Donna." She replies shortly, putting her hands on my shoulders and pushing downwards so the hook ripped the collar and I tumble to the ground. "Sorry," she says, not sounding very sorry at all.

I scramble to get up. "That's okay." I smile. _Donna. _"Oh!" I exclaim suddenly. "You are the one Eric loves!"

Her face turns the colour of her hair. "What? No! Where'd you hear that?" she stutters and protests, but I smile. I know the truth.

"I know the truth," I sing, my inflated tone falling slightly when she turns and walks away.

But I follow her. Who knows? Maybe I'll meet this Donna lover and his friends one day.


	5. Jackie: Before

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Chapter Notes: **What if Jackie hadn't refused Hyde's offer in Street Fighting Man?

**Warnings:** Shouldn't be any.

**Imparfait**  
Chapter 5 – Jackie: Before

* * *

_Every time I try to walk away  
Something makes me turn around and stay  
And I can't tell you why_

"I guess before we'd just hang out, huh?" His voice was low, and almost sounded sad. Like he missed Before. I missed Before. If it was Before, we'd go into the basement and watch TV, maybe play cards or form a circle with whoever happened to stumble in. And once we were alone, Steven would leave his chair to join me on the couch. I'd snuggle up to his side, he'd put his arm around my shoulders, and we'd just sit there and watch whatever late night show came on until we were both too tired to keep our eyes open. Despite Kitty and Red's wishes, I would sleepily follow him into his room and onto his cot. And we'd fall asleep together, in too cold a basement on too small a cot, but we'd be together. And we'd be happy.

But that was Before. And this was Now. "Yeah," I said softly. "I should probably get going." I shoved both hands in the pockets of my plaid jacket and bared myself against the cold Wisconsin wind, trying to ignore the awkward cloud that hovered above us since we broke up.

It was like we were each an atom. Alone, we were fine. Even with other atoms, things could work. But there was something in each of us that set the other off, though not only in a bad way. We could bring out the best in each other, and the worst. There were so many reasons I loved him – so many reasons to explain why I still do – but there was still so many that drove me up the wall.

I started to walk away, but his voice stopped me. "You want a ride?"

Maybe I only thought I heard a glimmer of hope in his voice. Maybe my mind was making it all up in it's Before centric haze. Maybe I was trying to convince myself that he was really sorry about how he treated me at the football game, and that this was his way of apologising. Maybe I wanted everything to go back to how it had been Before he told me he didn't know; Before I had pushed him to know. And maybe I just longed for Before, or if not that, just the comfort of knowing that he was there if I ever needed him. He was always there before, someone who, despite his initial unwillingness towards it, would always let me go to him. When Michael did something to make me angry, I went to Steven. He didn't only offer a sound shoulder to cry on, but it also made Michael angry. He didn't show it – he isn't really a jealous guy – but I could tell it bothered him, so I kept doing it. But when it was Steven who upset me, I couldn't run to him anymore. That left me little to no options. Donna was always my first choice; she was another girl, and despite her awkward consolation tactics, I really think she meant well.

I could've said no. I could've denied his offer, kept walking, and tried to ignore the fact that I was going home to an empty house instead of falling asleep in my boyfriend's arms, like I would have had it still been Before. But instead, something told me that riding home to my empty house in said ex-boyfriend's car was better than my other option, and before I knew it, I was agreeing.

"Sure," I said softly, running my tongue over my teeth (biting your lip is a terrible habit that only leads to chapping and smudged lip gloss) and following him to the parked el Camino silently. The only sound was of his boots against the pavement as the slapping noise filtered gracefully through the night air. Soon, though, that faded away, and the clicking of latches opening took its place, followed closely by doors slamming.

We were both silent as he turned it on and put the car into drive, smoothly pulling out of the back lane. I was leaning against the door and he was comfortably lounging on the driver's seat while he drove through town, and I noted, with some delight, that snow had begun to fall. It landed softly, already coating the sidewalk with a fine layer of white fuzz. God, I love snow. It makes me feel like a little kid, eagerly anticipating the first time the world would be covered, when I could go outside and make snowprincesses. Sometimes, Daddy would put some water in a spray bottle for me and drop some food colouring into it so that I could paint the boring white yard beautiful. Even still, I love the winter. Summer's great for tanning, but winter is winter. Besides the dairy industry, winter is the best thing to represent a Wiscosinite. Plus, in the winter, there's none of that awful humidity that frizzes my hair.

A sudden jolt brought me back to the present, and I glanced to my left to see Steven staring at me. My eyes widened at being caught off guard, but he gave no sign that he noticed. We're parked in my driveway, I quickly realised, and I tried to form a cohesive sentence, constantly battling the awkward cloud that continually hovers over us.

"So, uh, thanks," I muttered quickly, feeling the surface of the door in search of the handle. The cool air calmed me slightly as I walked to the porch, noting without any signal to my comprehension that he hadn't pulled out of the drive quite yet. He never left until I was inside, and this little link, this tiny gesture made me swell inside. Even though we weren't together, he still cared enough to make sure I was safe, and that I got in all right.

I didn't stop moving until my hand was resting on the doorknob. I twisted around to see him still in the same spot in his car, the car occupying the same spot it had hundreds of times. Though I could see him staring at me through the windshield, his expression was unreadable, as it often was, and before I could stop to think about what I was doing, I took a deep breath, turned around, and walked gracefully back towards the el Camino.

"Hey," the door was open even before I was within five yards of him, and I like to think it was laced with concern. "What's going on?" I could understand his confusion. The times when he didn't accompany me inside, I'd get to the door, and twist around, much like I did that night. However, instead of actually going back to him, like I'd just done, I'd wave, or blow him a kiss before disappearing inside my house.

"Nothing," I replied, stopping a couple feet from the car. I stood there awkwardly, not sure what I was doing. His brow furrowed, and I could see his mouth open to say something to me – something mean, I'm sure – and I just sort of snapped. Everything that had been happening lately finally made me crack, and I tried to force back the tears that hadn't yet slid down my face regardless of any effort made to stop them. Tears for him, for my mother, my father, my low algebra grade. Anything that seemed remotely wrong in my life exploded out of me, and I, daughter of Jack Burkhart, the richest man in town, was on my front lawn (even if snow was a better word), crying in front of my ex-boyfriend who I was still in love with, for everything I didn't have.

"Sorry," I sniffled, wiping my face with my mitt clad hand, trying to control my emotions. Up until this point, he hadn't moved, save for swinging his legs out of the car and repositioning himself until he was sitting sideways in the driver's seat, facing me. But when I brought my hand back down to put it in my pocket, he reached out and grasped it easily in his own, and just held it.

After a few minutes in which I finally stopped the flow of tears, he gave my hand a tug and pulled me towards him. Standing up, he wrapped his arms around me, and I tightly hugged him back, silently thanking him for comforting me the only way he knew how. I shivered slightly in his arms, the winter night finally getting to me. And with energy I didn't know I had, I lifted my head from his chest to look at him.

"Can you stay with me tonight?" my voice was still scratchy, but he understood me perfectly, and I led him out of the snowy night and into my house.

And maybe, we could recreate Before.


	6. Hyde: Uncontrolled

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Chapter Notes: **What if Hyde had confronted Jackie in Street Fighting Man?

**Warnings:** Minor language.

**Imparfait**  
Chapter 6 – Hyde: Uncontrolled

* * *

Jesus Christ, what the hell was she thinking? I storm down the stairs from the stadium, fuming. Stupid crazy wench. I don't know what she was trying to pull, but she'd failed miserably. She should know me by now; she should've known that would only piss me off even more. Hell, that's probably why she did it. Manipulative skank.

I remember when she was going out with Kelso, she had him wrapped around her little finger. And I always looked on in disgust, telling myself that no girl would ever get me that whipped. And no girl ever did, but she sure as hell tried, and sometimes I thought she almost succeeded, with her practiced to perfection pout and soft words and freaking manipulative nature.

Not that any of it matters now.

My boots thud hollowly against the concrete floor as I step off the stairs and begin scanning the room for her. I first glance at the popcorn stand, you know, making sure she wasn't trying the same thing twice. I feel my face turn into a frown (well more of a frown than it's normally set in), as I look around trying to spot her. I keep moving forward, my eyes darting back and forth so fast it's beginning to annoy me.

And then I see her, leaning against a wall. I speed up my pace before I realise that she's not planning her latest scheme to make me suffer. In fact, she looks like she's in more pain than she's been inflicting on me today, I note as her shaking shoulders register in my brain. My feet freeze for a second, and I can't get them to move again, despite many efforts to. _Damn it._ My eyes rest on her for a minute, as she wipes her nose and tries desperately to regain control of herself. And before I can stop them, my damn feet are moving towards her. I've officially lost all control over my legs.

She seems to have seen me coming, though, and she quickly turns around and heads away from me. "Jackie, _wait,_" I say, speeding up and grabbing her wrist. She spins out of my grip, but turns around to face me anyways. God, she looks bad. Her eyes are all puffy and swollen and red, and they have this defeated look in them. "What the hell!" I explode at her as she tries to pull her wrist back and wrench herself from my grip.

"Let go of me, Hyde!" Her voice is strong and loud and if I hadn't already had visual proof that she was crying, I never would've guessed.

"No," I hiss at her, tightening my grip. "C'mon," I say a bit more gently, towing her behind me as I walk away.

Again, she tries to release herself from my hold. "Hyde, no!" she yells at me, causing many people to turn and look at us.

I stop, and turn around, pissed. "Fine Jackie," I say, annoyed that she isn't even willing to talk to me in someplace semiprivate. She's always complaining to me that I'm going to make a scene, and if that's what she wants, then that's what she'll get. "What the hell was all that?"

"All what?" she yells right back at me, and twists her arm out of my grip. "Let go of me," she spits in disgust. "I'm not going to bolt."

"All that!" I repeat, gesturing wildly to the field. "All your damn picture and caramel corn crap!"

She rolls her eyes. "I was being _nice_, Steven," she accents each word. "Something you should try someday." Oh god, the sarcasm is just dripping off her voice now.

"Oh give it a rest, Jackie," I sigh in frustration, glaring darkly at the people who are turning their heads to see the yelling match. As if hearing it wasn't enough for them, the morons have to turn around and witness it, too. "We all know how damn _good _you are at exhausting topics!"

"And we all know how damn good you are at avoiding them!" Her voice has lost the sarcasm and is now raw emotion. Anger, frustration, sadness all rolled into one, and for a moment I'm speechless. Of course it would end up on this again. It always comes back to something I did wrong, something I should've done differently, something I did to screw us up.

And for once in my life, I realise that having a screaming match with her isn't helping. "Why were you crying?" I ask softly, inwardly swearing as one of my now uncontrollable hands reached for one of hers.

She snatches it back immediately. "Why do you think?" she snaps at me, giving me one last look before storming past, presumably to the parking lot.

I stand there, motionless. Well, that didn't work. No wonder I rely on screaming fits to get me somewhere when I'm dealing with people. If that's how all rational conversations turn out, I'm pretty much set for life. I move to start walking back to our seats when some guy's voice stops me. "Aren't you going to go after her?"

I sneer at him. Damn spectators. Don't they have anything better to do? Without answering, I storm back up towards our seats, planning on just telling Donna and letting her take care of it, but before I reach the top of the stairs, I get to thinking.

What if, just one time, I went after her? If I had gone after her the first time, we may not be here right now. If I had gone after her before I cheated; after I cheated; after she called Kelso her boyfriend, we may not be here right now. And then, there's only one thought crossing my mind: was it worth it? Was it worth saving face and living through two or three weeks of pissed off remarks and angry retorts from both of us? And then I think of when we weren't broke up. When she'd slide into bed with me late at night. When she'd curl up against me watching late night TV. When she kissed me each she came into the basement, my car, wherever.

And for once in my life, I go after her.

After reaching the top of the stairs, I made sure to take another set down so I didn't have to run into the cocky bastard who made the smart-alek suggestion in the first place. I wonder what I'm going to say to her, if she'll even listen to me, or if I'll even be willing to speak. I damn well better, since I'm going after her and all. My boots slap against the concrete as I weave my way through the parked cars in search of the Vista Cruiser, where I'm confident I'll find her. And sure enough, it comes into sight with a small brunette perched on the hood.

Silently, I ease myself up next to her, and lay back on the windshield, my head resting on the roof of the car. For a minute, neither of us says a word, and the silence becomes deafening. Figuring I've come this far already (and probably won't ever get this far again), I decide to bite the bullet and speak up. "So I've been thinking," I start slowly, and for a few seconds, she gives me no indication that she even heard me.

Then, just as I'm about to open my mouth again, her small voice replies. "About what?"

I grin into the darkness. I knew she couldn't resist a hook like that. "About stuff," I respond, folding my arms behind my head. "About us."

Now she's really intrigued. She turns onto her side. "What about us?" she asks somewhat hesitantly.

This is worse than starting the conversation in the first place. Now I actually have to talk to her. Like, really talk to her. I can't remember the last time I did that. "About how you're a crazy manipulating broad." My response is quick and cool, but hey, it's not the yelling I was trying to avoid.

Put out, annoyed, and insulted, she falls back so she's facing the winter sky again. The cold on the metal of the car begins to seep through my clothes, and I shiver slightly. "About how you're an anti-commitment, present hating jerk?" she asks angrily.

"Yeah," I reply gently, running one of my hands through my hair, a habit I picked up as a way of calming myself. "That too." There's another few minutes of silence, like she's waiting for me to say something. I don't, trying to find the right words, trying to decide if it's worth saying them at all.

And suddenly, it's too long. She's had to wait too long, and she rolls off the hood. "I'm going back in," she says stiffly, her heels clacking against the pavement as she walks around the car. Before I can stop myself, I'm following suit.

"Jackie, wait!" I call to her before logical thought prevents me, and she stops, turning around expectantly. My body freezes in place as I realise that she's waiting for some profession of love or something I can't offer her. I swallow hard knowing that there's no easy way out of this one.

I've come this far. May as well go that little bit farther.

"Lookit," I swallow again, sure my Adam's Apple must look like a freaking buoy. "I was thinking that maybe if you say you might start," I'm struggling. Trying to find the words. But I note, with some hope and optimism, that she's slowly inching towards me. "That if you start y'know, hanging out with me again, I just might be able to stay with you for a while."

There. That's as good as it's going to get.

But it's not good enough. It never is. She stops her slight movement to focus her eyes on my face. "How long's 'a while', Steven?"

Instead of swallowing, my foot starts tapping. Damn nervous reflexes. "I don't know Jackie," my voice has lost its calm tone and it's back to the snappy, yelling pitch again.

"You never know!" her protest is strong, with only trace amounts of the sadness I detected earlier. I can't believe she's bringing this up again.

I heave a sigh and clench my teeth together. "A while, okay Jackie? That's all I can promise you."

It wasn't a set in stone commitment, and it certainly wasn't a profession of my undying love. But she seems to know she's pushing too hard, and for once in her life, it's good enough. She hesitantly comes up to me, and holds on to my hands. When I don't pull away, she wraps her arms around me and presses her head against my chest. I breathe deeply, and my grip on her waist tightens. This feels right.

"I've missed you," she says in an almost whisper, squeezing her arms tighter against me.

I do the same. "Me too," I reply quietly.

Was it worth it?

Hell yeah.


End file.
